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<h1><a href="https://archiveofourown.org/works/28108863">Here (Miya Osamu x Reader)</a> by <a class='authorlink' href='https://archiveofourown.org/users/lady_rice/pseuds/lady_rice'>lady_rice</a></h1>

<table class="full">

<tr><td><b>Category:</b></td><td>Haikyuu!!</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Genre:</b></td><td>Angst, Anxiety, Anxiety Attacks, Depression, F/M, Fluff, Fluff and Angst, Hurt/Comfort, Intrusive Thoughts, Suicidal Thoughts</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Language:</b></td><td>English</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Status:</b></td><td>Completed</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Published:</b></td><td>2020-12-16</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Updated:</b></td><td>2020-12-16</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Packaged:</b></td><td>2021-05-10 22:26:57</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Rating:</b></td><td>Teen And Up Audiences</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Warnings:</b></td><td>Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Chapters:</b></td><td>1</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Words:</b></td><td>2,189</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Publisher:</b></td><td>archiveofourown.org</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Story URL:</b></td><td>https://archiveofourown.org/works/28108863</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Author URL:</b></td><td>https://archiveofourown.org/users/lady_rice/pseuds/lady_rice</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Summary:</b></td><td><div class="userstuff">
              <p>Some days everything just falls apart.</p>
            </div></td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Relationships:</b></td><td>Miya Osamu/Reader</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Comments:</b></td><td>10</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Kudos:</b></td><td>118</td></tr>

</table>

<a name="section0001"><h2>Here (Miya Osamu x Reader)</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p></p><div class="">
  <p></p>
  <div class="">
    <p>To say you were overwhelmed was pretty much an understatement. Everything is...difficult. Work was tough, bills were piling up, some friendships are strained, your family has expectations that you’re not currently meeting... and even more. It feels like everything that can go wrong seems to be already in the middle of crumbling to pieces.</p>
  </div>
  <div class="">
    <p>Every day you go out and plaster a smile on your face. Polite “How are you’s” that people don’t even mean are met with an equally false “Just fine, thanks. You?”</p>
  </div>
  <div class="">
    <p>Every night you lie in bed exhausted but you just can’t find yourself falling asleep. Staring in the dark for hours, just praying that the exhaustion would pull you into a much wanted slumber. Thoughts unbidden, swallowing you whole, bouncing in your skull, as you tamper down every other voice to shut up and stay quiet. Anxiety is gripping you by the neck, intent on suffocating you with your traitorous thoughts of rejection and worthlessness.</p>
  </div>
  <div class="">
    <p>You wanted to tell your boyfriend, Osamu. You really did. When you entered a relationship with him, you admitted that you were struggling with...some things. “Okay, maybe a lot of things,” you countered when he raised an eyebrow. A risk, you had put it – a risk that he’d have to take if he wanted to try to be with you. He just smiled and squeezed your hand, assuring that yes, he’s sure he wanted to try.</p>
  </div>
  <div class="">
    <p>Your shoulders had sagged from his answer. But honestly? You didn’t know if it was from relief or dread. You knew that there would come the day you’d have to talk about it. The dreadful moment when Osamu would have to see you at your weakest. And you...you just weren’t ready to even slightly imagine how he would react.</p>
  </div>
</div><div class="">
  <p>Osamu isn’t stupid. He’s perceptive. He can already tell when you’ve been struggling. All throughout, he’d been incredibly kind and thoughtful. He never pushed you to spill your heart out to him, and you had been grateful. You could pretend that everything was fine, even forgetting the demons living inside your mind.</p>
</div><div class="">
  <p>You stubbornly wanted to deal with your problems yourself. It’s your battle, and you have always fought by yourself. But now...well, you also weren’t stupid enough to not know that perhaps it’s time to ask for help. Though how can you even begin to tell Osamu?</p>
</div><div class="">
  <p>Every time you stare at your phone, the cursor blinking on the empty screen, you just can’t do it.  How do you even say something like that? “I need help.” That would send Osamu into a frenzied worry. “I kind of want to kill myself.” Forget worry, that’s going to make him panic.</p>
</div><div class="">
  <p>“Hey, can you help me? My head’s not put on straight right now.” Okay, casual enough but also sufficiently serious. If only you can actually manage the act of typing it out. </p>
</div><div class="">
  <p>Instead, you made up excuses you knew were bullshit, but you held onto them with an iron grip.</p>
</div><div class="">
  <p><em>Osamu’s busy. I don’t want to bother him.</em> You haven’t seen him in a couple of days – both of you busy with work. You exchange curt messages checking up on each other, but that’s about it. He drops by your place or your work sometimes, but with his shifting schedule, it’s been a rare occasion lately. Maybe it’s actually for the better that he doesn’t see you right now. At least, not like this. </p>
</div><div class="">
  <p>Your hand grips your phone, hand trembling as fear washes over you. <em>Osamu wouldn’t want someone weak.</em> The phone feels heavier in your hands imagining how he’d react when you spill all your worries and insecurities. He’s a young, successful entrepreneur who’s just...perfect – handsome, smart, charming, kind...you can list all the things. And what about you? You grip the blanket tighter around you, suddenly cold. <em>Osamu deserves better – someone who can stand by his side as equals.</em></p>
</div><div class="">
  <p>You slam your phone down on the desk. For a second you thought you heard it crack, but that might have been the choked sob that slipped out of you. “Shit,” you hiss. Angrily biting down on your lip, you clench your eyes shut. Stop it. Enough of this.</p>
</div><div class="">
  <p>
    <em>Ah, but it’s true, isn’t it? You just aren’t good enough for him.</em>
  </p>
</div><div class="">
  <p>
    <em>Shut up.</em>
  </p>
</div><div class="">
  <p>
    <em>We’ll never be good enough. After all, we’re just a burden. Always have, always will.</em>
  </p>
</div><div class="">
  <p>
    <em>Shut. Up.</em>
  </p>
</div><div class="">
  <p>
    <em>Must be why he hasn’t come to see you. The voice gives an airy laugh. Who’d want to see you?</em>
  </p>
</div><div class="">
  <p>
    <em>Fuck off. </em>
  </p>
</div><div class="">
  <p>
    <em>He probably already has someone new. Someone smarter, prettier, confident, stable...the works. </em>
  </p>
</div><div class="">
  <p>
    <em>No. Stop. Stop it. Please. </em>
  </p>
</div><div class="">
  <p>
    <em>Ah, why do they always leave in the end?</em>
  </p>
</div><div class="">
  <p>You let out an angry cry, unable to quell down the tears. Frustrated sobs wrack your fragile frame, and you surrender yourself to the pain. <em>Fuck, I hate this. So fucking weak. Fuck. I’m better than this.</em></p>
</div><div class="">
  <p>Your fist slams in a nearby object, hurling it off the desk to shatter into a million pieces. The glass leaves scratches on your hand, but you don’t even notice. Anguished cries pour out of you as you bring your legs up on the chair to curl into a ball. Why does everything feel excruciating? <em>Why am I weak? Stop it. I don’t want to be weak anymore.</em></p>
</div><div class="">
  <p>
    <em>Please.</em>
  </p>
</div><div class="">
  <hr/>
</div><div class="">
  <p>Osamu ran up the stairs two, three steps at a time, panting and cursing. Why did the elevator have to undergo maintenance now of all times? He clenches his phone tightly, the call still going.</p>
</div><div class="">
  <p>He was surprised when your name lit up on his phone. Unexpected, but a welcome surprise nonetheless. You had mentioned a recent project that had been keeping you busy for most days (and nights), so he was bemused when you’re suddenly calling him in the middle of the day.</p>
</div><div class="">
  <p>He briefly signaled a staff member to cover for him as he paced to the backroom.</p>
</div><div class="">
  <p>“Hey,” Osamu greeted, excited to hear your voice.</p>
</div><div class="">
  <p>But there was only silence on the other line.</p>
</div><div class="">
  <p>“Y/n?” he calls out. Was it a misdial? Slightly disappointed, he was just about to hang up when he heard a whimper. He grips his phone, now wide alert. “Y/n?” he calls out again, firmer and more urgently this time.</p>
</div><div class="">
  <p>The seconds of silence felt too long. He was already moving, grabbing his bag, and curtly telling the staff he’s leaving. He couldn’t even finish his instructions before he heard your cries. Osamu rushes out of the restaurant, hoping – praying that you wouldn’t hang up.</p>
</div><div class="">
  <p>He runs all the way to your apartment block, damning the train and the crazy lunch rush hour crowd. He looked mad as hell running in the streets under the sweltering sun. Sweat drenched his shirt, but he never felt as cold as he did hearing your pained cries. It felt like being thrown under a bucket of ice – the shock, the confusion...the fear.</p>
</div><div class="">
  <p>
    <em>Fuck. You better be okay, Y/n. You better be there.</em>
  </p>
</div><div class="">
  <p>When he paused to catch his breath, putting his phone to his ear to call out for you once again...he realized this must be what desperation feels like. You never answered him back, only your anguished sobs reaching him.</p>
</div><div class="">
  <p>He jammed the key to your door, almost kicking it in. He yells out your name, but still no answer. When he finally rushed to your room, he let out a breath he didn't know he was holding. His legs felt like giving out under him, but all he could think of was how painful it looked to see you suffering like that – crying your heart out to an empty room as you curl up to hide.</p>
</div><div class="">
  <p>Gulping down his own fears, he walks over to you, strong arms encasing you in his firm embrace. You startle, finally noticing his presence.</p>
</div><div class="">
  <p>"'Samu?! I–" you croak, straightening up in alarm. He gently shushes you, picking you up as he lies down on your bed. His arms trap you on top of him and you hide yourself in his chest, gripping his shirt tightly. He smells like rice, spices, sweat, and the sun. You vaguely wonder if this would be the last time you'd be in his arms. The thought made you cling tighter to him as you swallow down the sobs threatening to burst out again.</p>
</div><div class="">
  <p>"I'm here," Osamu whispers, gently rubbing your back. "I'm here." Holding you even tighter as if to affirm his presence, he repeats those words over and over. You quietly hold onto him just as tight. Tears keep slipping out even when you clench your eyes shut.</p>
</div><div class="">
  <p>"It's okay, y/n, I'm here. Just let it out," he whispers and the dam breaks again. Through the afternoon, he just silently holds you as you break down to your most vulnerable. You tried to apologize, muttering broken "I'm sorry's" but he shushed all of them away.</p>
</div><div class="">
  <p>It was dusk when the tears finally stopped, finally depleted for any more to flow. You sniffle and hiccup as you attempt to steady your breathing. Osamu relaxes his grip, gently tilting your face to him. You're too exhausted to hide, only blinking wearily at him. You wanted to say something – another apology probably, or maybe an explanation, or a plea...for what, you don't really know. But there's a stone lodged in your throat and your mind can barely piece together that Osamu is actually here. Osamu. Here with you. Witnessing your lowest.</p>
</div><div class="">
  <p>Your eyes widen when you properly meet his gaze. Tender and loving, but his eyes are also slightly red and puffy. You catch him brush away a tear. Cupping his face, your thumb strokes his face, wiping away the dried tears on his cheeks.</p>
</div><div class="">
  <p>"'Samu?" you rasp out, voice still hoarse. "Are you okay?"</p>
</div><div class="">
  <p>He laughs at that. Suddenly, madly laughing that it startles you. Really? You're the one having a breakdown, and you're the one asking him if he's okay? He pulls you in again despite your worried protests, burying his face in your hair. He doesn't know if he's shaking from laughter or tears. The only thing he knows is how much he doesn't want to let you go.</p>
</div><div class="">
  <p>"'Samu..."</p>
</div><div class="">
  <p>"Fuckin' scared. I–" His voice cracks and you stop. "When I heard ya cry, I– got s' scared. Ran all the way here. Thought ya...you..." He breaks off, not daring to finish that thought.</p>
</div><div class="">
  <p>"I– sorry–" you croak, guilt slowly creeping in.</p>
</div><div class="">
  <p>"Don't."</p>
</div><div class="">
  <p>"Mm?"</p>
</div><div class="">
  <p>"Don't be sorry. Don't– Never apologize. Not for this– not for life being shit. I– Don't."</p>
</div><div class="">
  <p>You both take deep breaths, grounding your thoughts, looking for the right words. </p>
</div><div class="">
  <p>Osamu grabs your shoulders, wanting you to look him in the eye.</p>
</div><div class="">
  <p>"I'm here, y/n." </p>
</div><div class="">
  <p>You tearily nod, but he continues. "I'm here. Don't– Ya don't have to suffer alone anymore, yeah? Let me at least carry some of yer shit. Ya don't have to– fuck." He curses under his breath, stumbling over his thoughts. An amused laugh escapes you as tears start falling again.</p>
</div><div class="">
  <p>You distractedly wave your hand at him, wiping off the tears falling. "God– we're such crybabies," you exasperatedly say and he just laughs, rubbing his eyes. He notices the state of your hand, gently holding it as you reach out for a nearby bottle of alcohol.</p>
</div><div class="">
  <p>"Nah, yer the only crybaby here," he says applying the liquid to the open scratches on your skin.</p>
</div><div class="">
  <p>You hiss at the slight sting. "Yeah sure, those are totally not tears."</p>
</div><div class="">
  <p>"They're eyeball sweat."</p>
</div><div class="">
  <p>"Fuck you."</p>
</div><div class="">
  <p>"Love ya."</p>
</div><div class="">
  <p>Your heart felt about to burst seeing him look at you so fondly. He's a complete mess –  his hair in complete disarray, his shirt soaked with sweat now with your tears (and probably snot), grains of dried rice sticking at the hem, and his dirty shoes still on your bed too. A complete mess that you wouldn't have any other way.</p>
</div><div class="">
  <p>"Love you too," you croak out before looking away as you feel about to cry again. Fuck. Enough tears for today.</p>
</div><div class="">
  <p>You two settle on the bed in comfortable silence. Osamu absentmindedly tracing patterns on your skin as he held your hand in his larger ones. The sky outside your window slowly turns dark, the moon peeking out shyly from behind the clouds. Your eyes trace Osamu's profile as he stares at the ceiling. Now that he's here...you admittedly feel better, but you already know those fears would strike again. It never truly goes away. But you can't help but hope that maybe it would actually be better – that it can be better.</p>
</div><div class="">
  <p>You open your mouth, but he beats you to it. "Tomorrow."</p>
</div><div class="">
  <p>"Huh?"</p>
</div><div class="">
  <p>He glances at you out of the corner of his eye. "We can talk tomorrow. Tonight, rest."</p>
</div><div class="">
  <p>You nod tiredly as he pulls you on top of him, watching you blink sleepily. You mumble, "We haven't had dinner tonight." He yawns, "Dinner at midnight?" You jerk your head again, eyes already closing. He lets his eyes fall shut, arms securing you against him.</p>
</div><div class="">
  <p>"'Samu?"</p>
</div><div class="">
  <p>"Mm?"</p>
</div><div class="">
  <p>"Thank you."</p>
</div><div class="">
  <p>He smiles, giving you a silent squeeze.</p>
</div>
  </div><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_foot_notes"><b>Author's Note:</b><blockquote class="userstuff"><p>Well, this was tough to write. Wasn’t sure I’d post this because...uh, it’s a pretty painful topic. Life’s just been, eh, tougher than usual lately; and my headspace pretty much has been wrecked for years now. Just got to accept the fact that "okay" is the best-est I could be, and maybe not being okay would just be the standard.</p><p>I hope to whoever's reading this that you're okay, or at least remember that shit can get better. Remember to take care of yourself. 💖</p></blockquote></div></div>
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